


Tragedy And Regrets

by wisdomandwit



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, One-Sided Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 01:55:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3832708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisdomandwit/pseuds/wisdomandwit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Choices weren’t supposed to be made for a Wesley. But that didn't stop Wilson Fisk from doing so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tragedy And Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. I like feedback. It's been awhile since I've done the writing thing, so I really like feedback.

According to Arthur Miller maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets. The bastard child of a gerund and the infinite possibilities of what could’ve been. Only, all he could think of through the evening was the words of his father telling him that regrets are for those who lack confidence in their own decisions and if he did anything he better be damn sure he made the right choice.

Choices that were made for him never got covered in his father’s many well intentioned life lessons. Perhaps because choices weren’t supposed to be made for a Wesley.

If he had a stronger will or a less weak heart, maybe that would’ve been the case, he thinks as he stands in the banquet watching his friend talk with people. None of the words came out especially easy, but Wilson tried his best and the worst of his struggles were met with the gentle squeeze of his arm by Vanessa and a proud smile. With every action like a dagger in the heart he thought he had gotten rid of years ago on a balcony with a view.

The idle thought of whether or not Wilson’s carefulness would come to hurt her as well crossed his mind. A simple wonder of how bad it would be.

Certainly it could never be as bad as the night Wilson had told him that they had to create some _distance_  in their relationship. The joke that Wilson was breaking up with him before it dawned on him that it was so much worse. A clean cut was something he could drag himself away from. Bleeding and in pain, but still alive.

No, Wilson tethered them together with careful words and worried looks. Leaving Wesley to be dragged along by the ever moving force that was the other man in a painful ride he had no control over. 

Whatever had been developing, if it hadn’t been just been the last hope his heart would ever put out, couldn’t. Not with Wilson gaining power like he was. Friends were liabilities. Anything more was… a death sentence. Wilson, the good intentioned fool that he was, only wanted what was best. Only wanted to keep him safe from a world of people who would torture him to get at his friend.

It made enough sense. He had even smiled through it back then if he remembered correctly. Had agreed to soothe Wilson’s nerves until the man walked away. Then an empty glass wound up chucked however many stories to the ground below as his already stone heart tried to calcify over any remaining feelings.

She was working away the harshness of both of them held. Every action left Wilson with a few less jagged edges in his heart and Wesley all too aware of the still poorly scarred wounds in his own. 

And even when people start to drop at random, like a strange game of dominoes–even when she proves to be one of them and the tone of the evening changes, his mind still lingers on that choice Wilson made for them and how he should’ve fought it.

After all, there was no way to have a great tragedy without a great joy to precede it. She proved that just by lying in Wilson’s arms.


End file.
